Indoctrination
by WildWeaselCOBRA
Summary: A splurge about how Big Boa trains the new Cobra recruits. Bleh. I wrote this like 6 months ago and never got around to publishing it. I wanted to add on more stuff, but I didn't.


Hal Whitman graduated high school with no plans or ambitions. He spent his days on the streets, hassling younger kids who came near him. He took glee in the easy money he made, just with a simple threat. Truthfully, he didn't mind when they fought back. It was an excuse to beat the poor sap into the pavement. He'd only gotten hurt once, when a lucky hit dislocated his right shoulder. After two years in and out of jail for various charges of assault, battery, and robbery, he met a Cobra recruiter. With the promises of easy money and a survival of the biggest environment, Hal easily signed up.

A few days later, he strolled down a metal staircase into the basement of a secret Cobra training facility. This facility was disguised as a broken-down, barely rentable tenement in the city. However, behind its doors and below its floors were where potential vipers proved themselves. The basement was a bare concrete room, about 20 yards on each side. A few dozen other young men and women were gathering in groups. A few shouting matches were in progress, on the edge of a fight. Hal stepped off the stairs and started to approach one of these groups.

At the top of the stairs, a door slammed and clicked. These sounds echoed around the room, quieting the hodge-podge of a crowd. A 6 foot 4 inch man stomped down the stairs. He wore a tank top that clung tightly to his bulging pectorals. He was wearing bright red boxing gloves, with ivory sigils of Cobra on the back. His head and face were completely covered by a white helmet. The helmet's mouthpiece was a thick grill, and a neon red visor protected his eyes. This made it seem like as he gazed upon the adolescents, he was glaring into each of their souls at once. An electrical buzz emanated from his helmet, barely audible in the silent room.

Hal subconsciously stepped back as the man rounded on him. The man reeked of danger, and if he could have, he would have bolted up the stairs and back home to his dad and older sister.

But the man stopped, staring down and the recruit. "You're late." The man slammed his fist into Hal's jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor with a disturbing crack.

"My name is Big Boa," continued the man. His audience was attentive. "I'm your instructor. I decide if you get the glory of fighting for Cobra. If you fail at any step, I will beat you into the ground like the worthless paste you are."

Big Boa took off his tank top as Hal struggled to get up. Cracking his neck and punching his fists together dramatically, Big Boa surveyed the crowd with amusement. There were a few smart ones, edging their way to the back, but most stood their ground.

"We're starting with a physical test," Big Boa spoke crisply. "This is an all-out fight, no running or hiding. You all are going to fight me until you're dead or I'm satisfied." Big Boa looked down at Hal. His visor glinted. He stomped on the kid's right shoulder, crushing the bone. Hal shrieked as the other recruits nervously surrounded their trainer.

One of them took a wild swing at the Cobra, and was met with a fist in the gut. As two others jumped on top of Big Boa's back, he ducked quickly, pulling them by their hair to bring them crashing into the ground in front of him. The rest hesitated to confront Big Boa, so the Cobra charged at them, kicking and punching them into submission.

A couple recruits dashed up the stairs. Met with a metal door without a doorknob, they began slamming their shoulders into it. Their efforts to open it were in vain, and Big Boa smoothly made his way up the stairs to them. He grabbed them by their necks and threw them down the staircase. They hit the ground, their skulls making a sickening shatter. A clear, mucus-like liquid poured out their ears and their hair seeped with blood.

An hour or so into this punishment, about three recruits remained conscious, none standing. They clutched at their sides, drawing their legs and arms in on themselves in a futile effort to survive the kicks and blows Big Boa continued to deal out.

Big Boa was satisfied with his handiwork. He climbed to the top of the stairs, rapped twice on the door, and exited the building to go pick up lunch.


End file.
